


Da'len

by Balthuza



Series: spindleweed and elfroot smoke [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dead Clan Lavellan, Families of Choice, Gen, Grieving, M/M, Multi, bad choices equals consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 21:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11722512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balthuza/pseuds/Balthuza
Summary: He reads the letter three times before it hits him. They are gone. The Keeper’s last words sit on the page in his hand, stark and final, and he knows it was his choices that led them here.It was his fault.Without a word he turns around and leaves, closing the war room’s door without a sound.





	Da'len

Herbert Trevelyan belongs to [Liryczna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Liryczna/)

 

He reads the letter three times before it hits him. They are gone. The Keeper’s last words sit on the page in his hand, stark and final, and he knows it was his choices that led them here.

It was his fault.

Without a word he turns around and leaves, closing the war room’s door without a sound.

 

He is hiding, stalling for time and he knows it well. He could hear the commotion downstairs, when they realised his chamber’s door is locked. He could hear the surprise that they lock at all.

He didn’t knew either, and it took him a while to figure out how to make the ancient lock work, but he wanted to be alone.

He knows he is alone now, sitting on the balcony looking at nothing at all. He remembers the conversation with Cassandra, the cocky “wherever I am is home enough for me” and feels like laughing.

 

When he emerges from the room it’s late. The sun is closer to rising than setting, and when he gently works the lock open, the first thing he sees are the lumps of sleeping people in the corridor. With a sigh he picks up a stray bottle or two (empty, of course), moves back into his chambers and drags some of his furs outside, covering Dorian and Herbert with one and Bull with another. Cole almost wakes up when it’s his turn and Varven freezes for a second until his newfound human exhaustion drags him back to sleep.

 

Var goes to the kitchen. The long trek at this hour is vaguely surreal. The corridors are empty, nothing but the distant echoes from the tavern and distant footsteps of some servants to keep him company.

He is hardly surprised to find Steven in the kitchen already, preparing for the day to come.

Steven is just as unsurprised.

He knows already, that much is obvious and some dissociated part of Var’s brain is certain that by know everybody knows what he did. _What happened_ correct the more logical part, but the thought is there already and it isn’t going anywhere. Steven doesn’t say anything, he knows better, simply drags the elf into a bear hug and holds him for a moment, pretending not to notice the edge of desperation in how tightly Var hugs back. Then he pushes a tray full of food - cheeses, fruits, still warm bread, and sends him off with: “You know where to find me. We can always use another pair of hands, if you’ve time.” Var gives him an almost-smile and moves up through the silent Skyhold, leaves the tray next to the idiots who decided sleeping in a cold corridor is a good idea and goes back to his room.

 

This time the door is not locked.

  
  


\----

 

He is woken up by a pair of warm arms sneaking around his torso. Something lies on his stomach, and when he tries to find out what, his fingers find a mop of hair, soft and slightly damp. Somebody is playing with his feet, but stops with a quiet “oh, sorry, kadan” as soon as Var moves it. There's soft snoring from the hairy head on his stomach and a voice that whispers “go back to sleep, amatus” straight into his ear. He listens.

 

When he wakes up the next time, first thing he sees is Herbert, still asleep on top of him. His arm is dead, held in Dorian’s iron grip, and his feet are up on Bull's thighs. When he manages to pull up a bit, he sees Cassandra sitting on the sofa, engrossed in her book, there's some commotion downstairs and Var can hear Varric and Steven arguing over something in hushed whispers. Blackwall nods at him from his place by the wall. Solas is by the fireplace, muttering something about teas, Josephine dozes off in the chair next to the fire. Cullen doesn't lift his head from the paperwork he is filling, ignoring Sera on one balcony, and Vivienne on the other. It takes Var a moment to realize that the mop of blonde hair right by the bed is Cole, sitting with his back to him. A bird flies through the open door and lands above him. A pale hand reaches to collect the news, the flash of red hair above marking it as Leliana's.

For a moment Var doesn't know what to do, but then Herbert moves a bit, pressing him back to the bed, and Var smiles, just a bit.

The Keeper was right. A piece of his clan is still here with him.

 


End file.
